Facade
by Pithywisdom
Summary: I put on a mask just so they will think it is me. I am not who I used to be, or that is what my closest friends say. They tell me that I have changed, subtly, but changed nonetheless."
1. Chapter One

**FACADE**

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

**SUMMERY: **"I put on a mask just so they will think it is me. I am not who I used to be, or that is what they say."

"No flaws when you're pretending

But now I know she

Never was and never will be

You don't know how you've betrayed me

And somehow you've got everybody fooled

Without the mask where will you be"

-Evanescence

I put on a mask just so they will think it is me. I am not who I used to be, or that is what my closest friends say. They tell me that I have changed, subtly, but changed nonetheless. I guess that is true. I am no longer a child but now a young woman, but do not we all go through such a change? Perhaps they mean in personality and my idiosyncrasies. Perhaps I have changed. Then again, I am no longer a little girl.

Some wonder how I made it at all through my third year at Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I survived. Still, they wonder. They do not understand. And then they scoff because they are afraid. And people wonder why I act the way I do. I am not shy; I am just anti-social.

Then he grabbed my arm.

"What happened to your arm," he questioned me, pulling up my sleeve further to look at my crimson stripes. He appeared concerned but I knew he was not.

I tugged my sleeve down and continued walking towards the school's entrance so we could resume in our trip to the village, Hogsmeade. "You know how Crookshanks is," I lied, cradling my arm.

He looked skeptical but thankfully did not pursue the subject.

The trip was uneventful like it has become these past years. Yet is was always an enjoyable break from the routine of schooling that is rendered upon us.

I could not wait to get away from the boys. I love them to death but I needed to be by myself after such a trip.

I loved being Head Girl. My own room; just for me to hide in.

I glanced at Crookshanks who was asleep on my bed. He was more than a pet. He was my companion through the journey of this school. He was my friend (in an odd sort of way), my comforter, my scapegoat.

I opened my window and let the cool breeze flutter in. I watched the curtains wave their wind-guided hands at me for a moment.

I silently crossed my room and unlocked my First Aid kit that was certainly equivocal. The cool needle felt wonderful against my burning flesh. This was my sweet release.


	2. Chapter Two

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

"Tuesday the third,

I'll call this entry 'Mistake'

Cheap imitation

My life feels like a fake

A people person

Some days people annoy me

I'm growing edgy

Wednesday's title: Avoid Me"

-Newsboys

I am what as known as a wreck. I absolutely cannot find my knife. I am totally at my wits end. I have turned everything in my room upside down in turn to find it.

My imagination runs wild with thoughts of what has happened to it.

Harry and Ron notice I am off; I am not as I usually am.

I drum my fingers on the table in the Great Hall, staring off into space with an anxious expression, dreaming of thoughts of what possilby could I have done with my knife. I am, however, ignoring my plate of food set before me.

"Hermione, what's wrong," asked Harry as he looked up from his plate across from me. I did not answer. I did not hear him. I was so terribly wrapped in my own thoughts and anxieties that I have blocked out the world. It was only when Ron stilled my hand was I brought back to the unfortunate reality.

"Hermione, what's wrong," Harry repeated. "You're not usually this...err...jumpy or distracted."

"Oh. I was just wondering where..." I drifted off back to my worried thoughts.

"Wondering where what is," asked Ron and yet again I did not respond.

"Hermione," Harry said sharply. I jerked my eyes from the window to look at him.

"What," I asked irritably. What could possibly have happened to it? I always keep it in the same place. Every time.

"What were you wondering where you put what like Ron asked before you spaced out on us?"

"I'm fine," I sanpped. "I seem to have misplaced my unfinished Charms essay and am unable to find it. Now will you two leave me alone. I am pretty sure you haven't even started it yet."

Harry grinned sheepishly at Ron, "She's normal."

"No. She's mental," corrected Ron.

No. I'm worried, I thought as I picked at the food on my plate.

Harry joked about Draco Malfoy with our other house mates nearby and normally I would have laughed about anything ferret related but I just rolled my eyes and left the table.

Some days people annoy me.

Gods I hate the living.


	3. Chapter Three

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

"This bitterness you hide

It seeps into your soul

And it steals your joy

It's all you know

Let it go"

-Newsboys

Thank gods above, below, and all around I found it. A week full of nothing but pure hell but I found it.

The blade kisses my smooth, pale skin. I watch my red anger ease slowly from me. Oh sweet release! It is not enough. My tears fall on my arm, mating with my blood. I slash away. I feel myself going with the flow of my blood, my tears. Down. Down to my happy medium of my emotional roller coaster.

It does not hurt. Some people think it does. They are wrong. It only hurts before, before you do anything. The hurt, the anger, all pent up inside. It hurts. But when it is out...

Not all of it leaves, you know. It is still there. A constant reminder of who you are waiting to be set free. And it cannot be set free. No, yes it can. But that only happens when you end it all. When you finally let all of it go.


	4. Chapter Four

**DISCLAIMER:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

"No matter what I do it's never good enough

I give all that is me; still it's never enough

So why try? I give up...

I can't do anything right

You don't know me, stay out of my life

Kick me while I'm down, I want you to

I can't be like you

Don't want to be like you"

-P.O.D.

Some people marvel at me. They say I am wondrous. Maybe I am. I did take all the possible courses I could when I was a third year. I want to be the best. I have to be the best. I am not useless or hopeless.

I was ten when I received my letter saying that I was accepted to Hogwarts. It was such a shock to me but even more to my father.

My parents met at dentistry school. They got married and had not planned on having any children for a long time. They were happy and content until my mother found out she was pregnant. I was an accident. They considered abortion but there was a risk that she might not ever be able to have children again. So they turned to adoption. A nice family adopted me, I suppose. I met them but I do not remember them. Six months after I was born they were killed in a DUI accident. They were on their way home from writing me into their will. I was sent to an orphanage. A month or two later, a relatively young couple came in looking for a little girl. The doctors had told them that they would not be able to have any children. I was adopted by them. That summer, when I got my second year of schooling at Hogwarts, they told me something very important. I knew I was adopted, but little did I know that I was adopted by my birth parents. Before I was born I had disappointed them.

My father was in a worse state of shock than I was when I got my letter. He is very religious, very pious. It appalled him to learn that his only child was the very opposite of what he believed. He tried to accept me for who I became but it was too much for him.

I decided my third year I was going to be the best I could. I would do my best in everything just to prove to him that I was worth something. It was all for naught. He did not care. No matter what I did, I was still a witch. I was evil. My letter condemned me to hell. I would burn for eternity.

That is when the abuse began. He apparently thought he could beat the witchcraft from me. He started beating my mother too, blaming her because she had given birth to me.

The first evening stands out clear in my mind. He had watched me eat dinner. He ate so fast. He pushed his plate away and stared at me, watching my every move. I had just come home from Hogwarts that day. After dinner I went upstairs to finish unpacking. I was interrupted by a phone call. After my phone conversation my father spoke to me. I do not remember what he said nor how I replied but it angered him. I started walking back up the stairs to finish unpacking. He was not finished yelling at me and obviously he thought I was deaf. He grabbed my arm and dragged me over the banister like I was a rag doll, all the time screaming in my ear. He grabbed the back of my head and dragged me up the stairs and into my room by my ponytail. He grabbed me by my upper arms and repeatedly slammed me on my bed which was cluttered with my school books and tools, screaming how awful I was, what a bitch I was, how I was so imperfect.

That was when I turned to drugs and my knife and I've done and tried everything in the book. They took away all the pain he made me suffer. That was when stopped believing in God up in heaven. My father was a hypocrite.

You could no imagine how relieved my mother was when Mrs. Weasley wrote about the Quidditch World Cup.


End file.
